The Promise
by morgana07
Summary: 1-shot Dean's POV. Set after 08x14:Trial & Error/ Dean made a promise years ago and now he means to keep it because no one hurts his brother without expecting some payback. /Protective/Big brother!Dean


**The Promise**

**Summary: **_1-shot Dean's POV. / Dean made a promise years ago and now he means to keep it because no one hurts his brother without expecting some payback. /Protective/Big brother!Dean_

**Warnings/Spoilers: **_I'll warn for language. Has some minor spoilers if you haven't been keeping up with the last few episodes._

**Tags: **_None really._

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the boys. That's all Kripke and the CW. I do this for enjoyment and for the enjoyment of other fans._

**Author Note: **_This is a 1-shot in Dean's POV based on my story "You're Not a Grunt, You're My Brother" that I did for 08x14 Trial and Error. Thanks._

**SPN SPN SPN SPN**

I don't make promises often because one of the things drilled into my head by too many people was don't make 'em if you can't keep 'em. So I don't make promises unless I am damn certain I can keep them.

Being good at keeping them? I never said I was good at that since I've made a few to Sammy that while I meant to keep them other crap got in the way. I still try to keep that one where I said nothing bad would happen to him so long as I was around. It just doesn't always work out that well for us.

That promise and two others are the ones that have mainly stuck with me. I promised my Dad that I'd always watch out for my pain in the ass little brother and I promised after Walt and Roy shot me and Sammy that night during the whole Apocalypse crap that I'd be paying him a visit when I came back.

Well, I've been back for three years but between stopping the Apocalypse, thinking my brother was locked in a damn hole in the ground with two raging Archangels, to finding out that he wasn't but that he was running around with our Mom's demented family without a soul…yeah that was fun.

Too say that I've been kind of preoccupied for the last few years would be an understatement. A couple two-bit hunters like Walt and Roy paled in comparison to dealing with Sam while he was in T2 stage, then there was the matter of the black gooey monsters that popped outta Cas when he went all God on us and Sammy nearly losing his mind.

They probably would've stayed that way considering things for us haven't settled down much since my return from Purgatory. Sam and I've had issues but some of those have started to fade even though we still have our problems.

Problems that I mean to fix before we get too much farther into these trials cause something in my gut is saying that Sam is not handling this as well as he wants me to think he is…though first I have to see about finishing this.

I do try to keep most of my promises and now that Walt's just pissed me off again, my promise to him is back in my mind.

I'd known from the start that eventually all the crap that seemed to be following us would get out to the hunting community. I'd done what I could to shield Sam from the worst of the fallout and I know that even up to the day he died that Bobby was still covering for us.

Walt and Roy had gone on the rumors about Sam and they weren't the only ones to come after my little brother or me for that matter but Sam doesn't need to know about that.

Bobby had told me after we'd gotten Sam's soul back that the rumor mill was still flying about us but Bobby had the respect in the community to keep them off our backs.

With him gone, our help has been reduced to…Garth or as I like to call him, the littlest hunter who could and he's not much to keep others off our asses so that falls on me again to watch after Sam because I'll be damned if another hunter will go after that kid.

The other night, before Sam had killed that damn mutt from Hell, I'd mouthed off…again. Given him one of my patented speeches that I really should know by now usually sets him off in one way or another. I told him that I was just a grunt, that I wanted him safe while I did these trials to seal the gates of Hell.

I really didn't think anything of it. That's how I was raised and I know how these things play out for us so I wanted Sam safe. Yep, that worked as well as the time I used a freakin' taser on that Rawhead and fried myself because the next night, back at our new little base, Sam finally goes all emotional and gets in my face.

Sammy, when he was growing up, was an open book to me. Dad, Bobby, Pastor Jim, they couldn't see past what Sam showed. Sammy's awesome big brother, on the other hand, could always read him. He couldn't lie to me unless I was off my game and then it took a lot.

These days, ever since the whole soul, no soul, Lucifer living in his head thing…well, he's gotten a lot better at hiding stuff from me or I stopped looking as hard to see it. Not sure which it is but the other night Sam finally slipped up and dropped the emotional mother lode on me…then finally told me what I'd been waiting to hear.

Ever since I got back it's pissed me off that my brother didn't even look for me the year I was in Purgatory but just dropped out of hunting because and I quote 'I hit a dog and met a girl'. Right, I wasn't happy and that added to the stress between us but he's my brother and no matter what the hell we've been through I still know him and that line didn't wash with me.

Yeah, we aren't as close as we were before I went to Hell but I still couldn't see Sam just dropping out, no matter how easy it was for him to fall back to normal. I knew there was more to it and now I know what.

Walt and his buddy Roy set my little brother up. They jumped Sam because they knew he was on his own and just looking for a way to find me. They used his emotions against him and got him alone. I know there's more to it than what he did finally tell me but I'd seen enough in the scar on his shoulder and arm and the damn mark scrawled into his back to put Walt at the top of my 'First To Die' list.

I'd sworn once that no one would hurt my brother. I've screwed up keeping that promise but I won't let this one go any longer cause I know so long as Walt's out there he's a threat to Sam. Walt's the kind that once he's locked onto a target he won't let go and Sam will always seem like easy meat to him.

I've left Sam back at the 'batcave' as I like to call it while I'm supposed to be paying a visit on Garth and Kevin to see how our would-be prophet is doing with decoding the next trial Sam will have to face.

I've taken a small detour to a tiny hole in the wall place in southern Louisiana that according to Garth is where the two morons are still holed up. This is apparently where they lured Sammy and where, for a week, they got their kicks torturing my little brother.

Growing up I had a list of rules that I lived by. The first, foremost, and largest amongst those was if you touched my little brother I made you bleed and usually fed you a lung.

I still use many of those rules, including that one. Because anyone who puts marks on Sam that leave a scar or makes him break when he talks about it will bleed the moment I can get them in my sights.

For the past couple hours I've been sitting in this little dive bar off what I wouldn't even call a road. We're a good couple hours out of Houma and way too close to a lot of bayous and swamps…good places for people to vanish or so Bobby once told me.

I've been in plenty of places like this in my life. Hell, I grew up hustling pool and cards in places like this just so Sam could eat.

It's been awhile since Sam or I've hustled money like that so once I get back to him it might be a good idea to find a bar and see if he remembers what I taught him.

But, that's later cause right now I'm sitting in a corner, nursing the second beer of the night watching two assholes make even bigger fools of themselves if that were possible.

I didn't want to make my move in the bar since I wasn't sure how the locals felt about Walt and Roy. Now that I've sat here and watched them, I'm pretty sure I could walk up to Walt and shoot him in the face and no one in this place would give a damn.

Roy's an issue because I know once I make a move on Walt he'll jump me but it won't be the first time I've taken on those odds to protect Sammy.

I'm about to signal the waitress for another beer just to have something to brood over while I decide the best way to do this when it gets taken out of my hands.

The waitress, Chloe, is a girl who barely makes the legal age I figure. She's also barely 5'4" and 95 pounds soaking wet. Walt is around my height but way heavier but most of his weight isn't muscle. He outweighs her plenty so when I see him grab her by the waist with a drunken laugh I know what's about to go down.

"Asshole," this is not how I want to do this but he's going too far now and needs stopped.

The bar's patrons look mixed. They want to get involved but like most people these days don't know if they should or they don't know if they want to face Walt and Roy down.

I'm not in that way of thinking since that's usually how I got into trouble before. Stepping in to defend someone who couldn't defend themselves is normally what I do.

Sam, before he hit that damn growth spurt, was small too and far too many assholes like Walt tried to use that against him.

Now, he's bigger but he's still got weaknesses that people use against him. He's got too many of those and I'm about to put two of 'em out of my misery.

Roy's coming back from the men's room and hasn't seen me yet. His attention is own Walt and the struggling waitress. He's hesitating but only a moment and in that moment I use his uncertainty to slip behind him and slam his brainless head into the bar.

Without stopping to be certain he's out cold or if anyone in the place might come to Roy's aid, I'm behind Walt with easy access to both the knife I brought and my Colt.

"Let her go, Walt," he doesn't recognize my voice. He thinks I'm just someone from the bar getting up the nerve to stand up to him.

Six sheets to the wind makes Walt even more dangerous. It also makes him sloppy as he loosens his grip enough that the skinny waitress kicks out to catch him in a rather sensitive spot with the toe of her boot before dropping free and running for cover.

"Bitch!" Walt's pissed but he's about to be even more once I block his path from going after the girl. "Get the hell outta my way, asshole!"

Not looking up, still seeing stars probably from that kick, he goes to shove me out of the way only to find out that I'm not some local who runs at his merest growl.

Grabbing the wrist, I use his own momentum to my advantage by twisting both my body and him, jerking his arm up behind him in an armlock while pulling my Colt and cocking it by his hear.

"The girl's off the menu tonight, Walt. Tonight, you and me have some stuff to settle," I tell him, dropping my voice to the one tone very few people have ever heard or at least heard and lived.

"Who the damn hell?" his head bouncing off the wood by the door had his senses coming back. "You know who I am you stupid…ugh!"

An elbow to the back of his head before I give him a shove out of the bar, down the steps to let him fall to the ground while I make certain to stay at a distance where my Colt would still hit but he'd have a hard time rushing me.

"I'm hurt, Walt. You don't remember me," I add just a little more sarcasm to my voice before memories of seeing Sam's back and listening to Jefferson tell me the rest made all the humor leave and my gun is pointed at his face. "You seriously think you and that asshole in there can nail my little brother and not have to deal with me? I promised you once that I'd kill you for what you and Roy did that night, Walt."

"Winchester," now he knows me and there is no doubt in my mind that he's going to go for the knife on his hip so I fire close to his hand, grazing him. "You bastard!"

I know the odds and the time I have to get this down but I still can't help but smirk. It's assholes like this guy that gives hunters a bad name. "You seriously surprised to so me, Walt?"

"Thought you were gone," he spits, looking for help but I hear the bar door close and lock and guess it's just me and him for the moment. "Didn't like what we did to Sam? That freak got lucky cause I had a lot more planned for him."

Yeah, keep talkin' and this will end real quick. Walt's good at bragging. He always has been and the problem is that this isn't our first altercation. "I promised if you ever went after my brother again I'd kill you. I promised you three years ago I'd kill you for what you did and I promised Sammy five days ago I'd kill you for touching him. I promised and this is one promise I will keep."

"You won't kill me, Dean," Walt sneered, still moving a hand for the knife. "Cause if you kill me every hunter in the community will know about and they will hunt you down. Then who'll be there to protect your precious little brother?"

He makes a good point. A hunter killing another hunter is usually always frowned on but then from what I hear from Garth very few hunters would give a damn if Roy and Walt bought it and any who did are in the line of what I could handle on my worst day.

"Who says anyone will even find out?" I challenge, just to see his cocky reply to that. "Be easy for someone to vanish in these waters. Alligators just love jackasses or so I'm told."

"Bullshit! I'll kill you and then finish what I started with your freak of a…"

Walt pulled the blade I knew he would and lunged. I dodged and fired, making sure I didn't miss. "Y'see, now that was a mistake," I tell him even as I know the bullet had been a near instant kill. "Don't threaten my brother when I'm already pissed off at you."

He'll bleed out but he's already dead which only leaves Roy to deal with when I notice I'm no longer alone outside. "This is a good crowd or a bad one?"

A large man in overalls walked down the steps to nudge Walt with a boot before eyeing me then smiled. "Son, I'd say I'd buy you a beer for taking this scum out of our hair but I know the Sheriff's due to drive by here on rounds so you'd best get goin'."

He must have seen the way I looked cause he shook his head and I then noticed the shouts coming from the water behind the bar. "Misty has a dock offa here that she catches catfish and some crawfish," he spoke casually then grinned as he met my eyes. "Figure maybe a gator or three swim by now and then and could good a couple good meals."

Okay, I'm not sure that was the fate I had in mind for Roy but it works since Jeff said the smaller man had put as many scars on my brother as Walt had.

I'd wanted to make sure Walt's body was burned to crispy critters but get the local guy's idea. The last thing I need or want is to get arrested down here for shooting some asshole moron so I shake the extended hand before turning to give the body a final look.

"Mister!" the local shouted just as I'd opened the Impala's door. "Mind if I ask why you came down here and killed this piece of shit?"

There were plenty of reasons I could have given and most would have been the truth. Yet as I think about it, I finally give him my answer. "He hurt my little brother."

As simple as that since no one, so long as I still have breathe left, will ever hurt Sam and not expect to deal with me.

I drive away with one of the tapes Sam gripes about so much playing when my phone starts to ring. I don't need to look to know who it is on the other end so I grab it to answer it before it can go to voicemail and freak him out.

"Hey, Sammy, I'm on my home. What d'ya say when I get there we take a night off and go find a bar. We can see which one of us can still run a table the smoothest."

**The End**


End file.
